


Down Like Silver

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Banter, Blood, Bruises, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Gangbang, Group Sex, Hand Jobs, High School, Knotting, Leadership, Locker Room, Marking, Mating Bites, Multi, Multiple Sex Positions, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Ownership, Pack Dynamics, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Shameless Smut, Spit As Lube, Spitroasting, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "You know that voice: the slow syrupy drawl that's inundated with arrogance and cruel perversion. It's the voice of the Alpha you had hoped to avoid but the amalgamation of lingering perspiration and salty skin in contrast to the smell of soap and cologne is enough to confirm what you already know. The boys have just finished practice, so of course they would be together." You escape from one Alpha only to end up in a room of five, and to make matters worse, you're in pre-heat.
Relationships: Furuhashi Koujirou/Hara Kazuya, Furuhashi Koujirou/Reader, Hanamiya Makoto/Reader, Hara Kazuya/Reader, Seto Kentarou/Reader, Yamazaki Hiroshi/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 146





	Down Like Silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DirtyMers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyMers/gifts).



There is no proof that suggests dreams don't belong to the power of precognition—perhaps they belong to a category that is the least understood of these powers but that's not to say they don't exist. Furthermore, though it may be inconceivable to adumbrate ineffable truths, there is no evidence that foresight and the crystal-ball divine are forms of false abilities. In all fairness, it's best to say that it comes down to a matter of personal opinion; like the sounds in a haunted house, are they real or hallucinatory? Is something out of the range of optical vision nonexistent or simply cast in the shadows? The answers to these questions are dependent on personal belief and no one conclusion could possibly be enough to lay the bricks of a solid foundation.

The theory that reality and fantasy aren't so different might not be enough to swallow up all opposing arguments but it's feasible nonetheless. For all one knows, the visions we see in our dreams are fragments of our future. It just might be that we die before we're able to witness every facet of our slumberous illusions. The future, after all, is everlasting.

Contrarily, some claim that our dreams are merely reflections of our innermost feelings—a declaration that can be comforting to some but terrifying to others.

If one pushes their dreams so far out of their mind that they can't recall them, are they destined to have no sustainable future? And if someone only dreams in black are they doomed to never see in color? Then comes the question of nightmares.

And it just so happens that a bad dream is the very thing that acted as a gateway to your profound thoughts.

* * *

You leave your bedroom to find wolves in your house, pacing with smoky spit and heavy lungs. Their eyes are bright and glowing red, and their tongues speak in words of the dead. They look upon you with equal expressions of desire and hate. The hunger of a predator is written across each of their faces, and you realize that they're the ravenous wolves you've been warned about.

They won't let you near the doors or the windows that have been opened for fresh air. They keep their eyes on you at all times. They won't let you leave the house.

When it's solar noon and light suffuses the sky, they don't do much more than watch. But when the moon comes to stand in for the sun, they become active and reckless. They tear up holes in your house and run off into the wild in shifts; their claws raze the loam and their voices howl in crazed delight like gunpowder imitations. They come home with blood in their mouths and blunted teeth, and the leader, tall and black and proud, spits a mass of gore onto the ground at your feet.

You look up to the sky, a pitch-black ocean and count the stars, gilded in glitter and chrome. You wonder when you'll taste freedom again, when the quintet will leave the home they've carelessly ransacked for the cityscape bathing in starlight. You don't wish their company on anyone but people are inherently selfish at times and all you want is to return to the life you were living before they claimed it.

But if wishes could withstand December's frore, you would have a garden of roses yearlong. You give up on yearning and try to bodily drive them out of your home but the attempt ends in devastation. Your body is painted as black and blue as the sea and what's worse, is the image of keen-edged teeth that's been burned behind your eyes. You bear their marks in the shape of bloody indentations and deep scratches, each lesion like ink drawn beneath your skin.

They treat you like a queen without a crown, trapped at the bottom of the hierarchy of royal honors. You're in a long chain of command and the weight of your shackles is making it impossible to keep your head above water. You're stranded in the center of a mystic ritual with a rite of passage in one hand and the blood of the sacrificial lamb on the other: in short, you're drowning.

At night, the moon speaks to them and you've been in their company so long you think that you're starting to understand it too. The planets are all aligned and the stars are on parade, and when they howl in a synchronal arrangement, full-throated and mournful, it drives a bloody spear into your side.

They tear into you like they bury their paws into the stone and turn you into one of their own. They sink their teeth into your neck and leave bite-marks along your flesh. They fuck you like the night is merely a spill of ink, left to dry up with the sands of time. They fuck you with passion and rage as wild and as deep as the sea, and as the moon sinks into the water the tide rises within you.

They fill you up just to bleed you out, and when the sun fails to rise again, you're left lying naked and lifeless in the cold.

* * *

The dream plays in your head over and over again like a video on replay, and no matter how much you want to turn it off, the cables have malfunctioned and you're stuck in the company of repetition. It's compromising your ability to focus, which is already marred considering that you're in pre-heat. You feel dizzy and weak, and all you want to do is go back home and curl up on the mess of blankets and pillows you've carefully arranged in the corner of your room.

The bell signaling the end of the hour chimes and shakes you out of your reverie. You glance around the room, eyes heavy with fatigue and begin to gather up your belongings. It takes more effort than it should to force your body into motion, but you make it out of the classroom before the more studious underclassmen start to file in.

You don't bother hiding the yawn that takes over the shape of your lips as you walk down the hall and in the direction of your locker. You hug your books to your chest and try to ignore the occasional knot of heat that forms in the low of your belly. You chide yourself for not taking the day off, but exams are closing in and the last thing you want is more work to catch up on.

You wander down a hallway with your head so high in the clouds you don't realize that you've taken a wrong turn. Your eyes are glassy and your tongue feels unusually cold in your mouth. You wet your lips and catch the sharp point of an elongated tooth on your tongue. The taste of blood is enough to pull you back into awareness, and you suddenly discover that you're headed toward the Athletic Department.

You exhale a long-suffering sigh and turn around to head back whence you came. The shadow of a boy you've never spoken to is coming down the hall, and to most this wouldn't rouse suspicion but you're immediately imbued with a sense of dread. You try to make yourself appear as small as possible but when you meet his eyes, fading into the background becomes implausible.

Warning bells sound in your head and you immediately turn away from him. You run down the hallway, the heavy footfalls that sound behind you spurring you on. You break through the first door you see and try to catch your breath, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it almost impossible to compose yourself.

You press your palm over the space of your heart and keep your eyes fixed on the door. Your heart is hammering beneath your fingertips and your throat burns from the rush of oxygen you tried to squeeze into your lungs. You stumble backward and nearly trip over your own feet as you prepare yourself for the worst.

The worst, however, doesn't lie through the door but behind it. You don't know it yet, but you might as well have jumped into a den of hyenas for where your fear has taken you.

After a brief moment, you reach out toward the door but your fingers don't make contact with the oak because someone spins you around and clamps a hand over your mouth. You feel your eyes widen in surprise and your pulse thrum wildly in your neck.

“Haven't you ever watched a scary movie? If you were to venture out there now, you'd be dead in no time.” Hara smiles at you but the gesture is no less unnerving than the fact that you can't see his eyes. He presses your back up against the wall with ease despite your innate moxie and drags his tongue out across his lips.

“She smells like wild cherries,” Furuhashi notes, making himself visible over the curve of Hara's bare shoulder.

“I can't tell which I'm feeling more, arousal or hunger,” Yamazaki chimes in from a bench across the room.

“With you, it's probably both,” Furuhashi drawls, sounding as bored as he looks.

You don't see Hanamiya or Seto, and there are too many scents for you to discern where each one is coming from, but you won't allow yourself the comfort of believing they're not around. Your heart feels like it's going to break through your chest but the knot in the low of your stomach has warmed. You swallow thickly and fight the temptation to bite down on Hara's hand. You might have a chance at escaping if he were alone but you know that you have a snowball's chance in hell at evading all of them—so you try to calm the static tripping over your nerves and focus on the rocks in your belly where the rattlesnakes have unfolded.

Hara curls the fingers on his unoccupied hand around your wrist and lifts it to his lips. He noses your skin and inhales deeply as if he's committing your scent to memory. His hair grazes the smooth contour of his cheek, and for the briefest of moments, you think you a contracture of an old burn scar over his right eye.

“Would you bring her in here already?” Yamazaki shouts, irritation creeping into the edge of his voice.

You track Hara's movements with your watery gaze as if you've forgotten how to blink. You don't want to be the polestar of the room; you've never been the type to go looking for a spotlight to stand in. Moreover, being the sole Omega in a group of hyper-sexual Alpha males can only result in a single outcome, especially when you're so close to going into heat.

“Bring who in?” Seto intones as he enters the room in nothing but a towel. But he needs no answer because as soon as he takes his next breath, he's snapping his attention onto you, and you can almost feel the sting as if he's drawn a rubber-band back against your skin. He drags his gaze down your body and you can feel the heat of it spread down the entire length of your spine.

“How did you get in here, Cherry?” Seto asks, his pupils dilating as he steps closer to where you're standing.

“She bolted through the door,” Hara tells him, his hand still planted firmly over your mouth.

“She smells like sex.”

You know that voice: the slow syrupy drawl that's inundated with arrogance and cruel perversion. It's the voice of the Alpha you had hoped to avoid but the amalgamation of lingering perspiration and salty skin in contrast to the smell of soap and cologne is enough to confirm what you already know. The boys have just finished practice, so of course they would be together.

It's ironic, you think, how a group so callous and vindictive and riddled with differences can bear the resemblance of a tight-knit family. They're as much a group of delinquents as they are a pack of wolves—they're loyal to a fault and if what you've heard is true, they would put their lives on the line for one another.

Hanamiya enters your line of sight, the ends of his hair heavy with water droplets and his eyes a glistering gold. His mouth curves on a dangerous smile when you meet his gaze, and something much more intense than a chill slips down your spine. You shudder, but as your body quivers heat pools between your thighs and you grow heady with arousal.

“Let's move over here so you can properly meet our boss,” Hara quips, the smack of bubblegum light on his lips and sugar on his breath. “Be a good girl and keep quiet, 'kay?” He takes his hand away from your mouth and pierces you with his gaze. He digs his fingernails into your wrist and tugs you after him, his grip unyielding and firm enough to promise future bruises.

You follow him against your better discretion and you're not entirely sure why. If it were for the sole purpose of acclimating to the inevitable you would understand, but it's almost as if you _want_ to follow Hara. You bump into him when he comes to a stop and feel your cheeks assume the color of cherry blossoms. He laughs and you note the broad line of his shoulders, the scratches on his skin, and the distinction and muscularity of his back.

You reach out to touch him with a steady hand but beneath your shapely frame, you're a mass of quivering sensibilities. Hara's body turns rigid when you brush your fingers against his back and you draw away your touch as if you've been burned.

“Don't worry, our violet mutt here has a long history with violence. It's nothing personal,” Seto says, ruffling Hara's hair between his long, thin fingers.

“It's not violet,” Hara grouses, smacking Seto's hand away from his head.

“Quiet, Violet,” Seto deadpans. He takes a step closer to where you're standing but Hanamiya is faster.

“Move aside,” Hanamiya tells Hara. “I want to get a better look at her.”

Hara steps aside but to your surprise, he doesn't release his grip on your wrist. Hanamiya takes a single step forward but it's enough that it brings him within inches of your frame. He reaches out and takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger to tip your head back. His eyes rove over your neck and you can't even muster the simple task of swallowing the saliva on your tongue. You hold your breath, half-expecting Hanamiya to pounce. The thought instills you with fear but your apprehension pales in comparison to the desire coursing through your veins.

“You still have a bit until you're fully in heat, yet you're so desperate to be mated that I can taste it,” Hanamiya says, his timber rolling into a low purr. He slides the pad of his thumb out across your bottom lip and grins. “It makes me want to feel your skin beneath my teeth and taste your salt on my tongue.”

You avert your gaze from his face as your emotions begin to brick you in behind a wall of shame. You wish you could ignore the roiling feeling in your gut but the slick dampening your panties makes it impossible to overlook the situation.

“We can _all_ taste it,” Seto says. “So either get on with it or move out of the way so I can get this show on the road.”

Hanamiya's eyes darken and you feel like you're looking into pools of obsidian when you flit your gaze to his face. He parts his lips just enough that you can make out the white slash of a smile. You can feel the tension rise in Hanamiya's body through the fingers on your face and you begin to worry that you're going to witness a fight.

“Come on, boys!” Yamazaki chimes, standing up from a bench to cross the room. “We're all horny and frustrated but there's plenty of this pretty little Omega to go around, right?” He turns to face you directly and flashes you a cheeky grin. “I don't mean to slight you.” His gaze moves down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. “I happen to love curves.”

You feel your cheeks darken once again and lower your gaze to the floor but on the way down, you realize that Yamazaki isn't wearing a single stitch of clothing.

“You're naked!” you blurt, eyes widening and heart thundering like the galloping of hooves.

Hara snorts a breath of laughter and Seto shakes his head.

“She speaks,” Furuhashi says flatly.

“She won't be saying much of anything in a moment,” Hanamiya notes, slipping his thumb past your bottom lip and into your mouth. “Are you a virgin?” he asks, eyes fixed on your face.

You accept the intrusion with mindless ease and flick your tongue over his salt-warm skin, shaking your head in lieu of a verbal response.

“Have you ever had sex with more than one Alpha at a time?” Hanamiya questions and presses his thumb down against your tongue.

You repeat your previous action knowing where this is going—you only wish you would get there before you lose your ability to stand tall against the chaos of happenstance.

“So you've never had all of your holes filled up at once? You've never been bred to fullness and fucked to the point of breaking?” Hanamiya drags his tongue across his lips, purposely cutting the edge of the slick muscle on the sharp point of a fang. When he grins, blood stains his teeth and the image of a black wolf flickers to the forefront of your mind. He removes his thumb from your mouth and exhales a huff of laughter. “You don't need to respond, I already know the answers and I don't like small talk. I'm just giving my boys a little insight.”

“I'm pretty sure we all know how this works by now,” Seto counters, impatience and irritation moving like a storm across his eyes.

“Have you ever tried to get Yamazaki on board without offering up your hand?” Hanamiya asks him, and you expect anger from the redhead but he simply laughs.

“Fuck you. I'm not stupid,” Yamazaki says, smiling. The fluorescent ceiling lights catch on his lean frame, making his skin glow, and it's almost impossible to ignore the hard jut of his cock. “When it comes to details and patience, I just don't give a rat's ass.”

“Yeah, which is why you're the only one here with a pup out there,” Furuhashi notes, jerking his head toward the door with his lips drawn into a tight line indicative of his disapproval.

“Hey! We don't know that for sure!” Yamazaki barks, flashing a set of the sharpest fangs you've ever seen.

“He does look just like you,” Hara says, popping a bubble so loudly that the sound of it hurts your ears.

“While these idiots duke it out, let's get ____ out of her clothes,” Hanamiya says to Seto, who looks marginally amused.

You flinch when Seto's fingers glance your neck to move a section of hair away from your skin. You offer him an apologetic look, needlessly, but your gaze quickly shifts back to Hanamiya. “You know my name?” you ask him, voice as shaky as your knees are weak.

“I know the name of every person in this school,” Hanamiya says, a drop of poison on his tongue. “I hate surprises and I like to know who my competition is. More importantly, I like to know who I can manipulate.” He looks at you pointedly, as if to underscore his point, and no sooner than Seto removes your blazer is Hanamiya undoing the buttons to your cardigan.

Hara releases your wrist long enough for the fabric to slip over your skin, but as soon as Seto is draping the topmost part of your uniform over an open locker, Hara's fingers close around your hand. Seto turns back around and arches an eyebrow at the boy who smells like spearmint and cactus rose.

“What?” Hara snaps defensively.

“You can't hold her hand forever, lover boy,” is Seto's answer, a crooked smile on his lips.

“I'm not _holding_ her hand. I'm making sure she doesn't try to pull any tricks.” Hara tightens his grip and you fight the urge to complain despite being afraid that he could easily break the bones in your hand.

Hanamiya's expression in unreadable but you're sure that you can sense indignation somewhere among his features. He unbuttons the final clasp on your cardigan and pushes the fabric over your shoulders. It slips down your arms and rouses a shudder that tiptoes through you. Every inch of your skin suddenly feels hypersensitive and you feel dizzy in the center of the room. Hara moves his hand away from your own, long enough that the knitted garment falls to the floor.

“Whatever you say,” Seto tells Hara. “We all know that you're the sensitive one here.”

“I'm not sensitive,” Hara grits, hissing between his teeth. “And nice mole, asshole,” he adds with a huff of disgust on his breath.

“Don't talk about my mole,” Seto growls, and you're left wondering if all Alphas are capable of this kind of behavior. You stifle the laughter that collects behind your teeth but the amusement is quickly overwhelmed by alarm, your body tensing when Hanamiya's voice echos through the utilitarian space.

“Enough!” Hanamiya snaps, a growl resonant in the low of his chest. “Stop acting like children and start living up to your Alpha titles. The way you behave is an embarrassment to our kind.”

“Hey, I think that's the first time he's said that where I haven't been involved,” Yamazaki says, nudging Furuhashi in the side with his elbow.

“Cheers,” Furuhashi utters, clearly unimpressed.

You close your eyes for a brief moment and try to steel yourself for the inevitable, but your nerves are putting on a fireworks display and your blood is running hot. With your visual perception momentary suspended you can smell an amalgamation of various fragrances that somehow complement each other. You catch notes of eucalyptus, pine, orange flower, citrus, leather, and powdery musk—the scents are sweet and honeyed when mixed, while also a bit metallic with spicy facets like neroli. In spite of their notoriously hard personalities, their scents are less harsh than those of other Alphas you've met.

You open your eyes when the air ghosts over your body like a mist of summer kisses. You look down at your chest and realize that someone—presumably Hanamiya—has already removed your white button-down. The crisp fabric has joined your blazer along with the cardigan that had fallen to the floor. It's a simple thing but it lends you a sense of reassurance, an act of generosity that suggests they might not treat you as roughly as you originally thought.

However, as quick as a shot in the arm, you note that they're giving off a predatory air, like mountain cats who have come to drag away your bones. It's the work of contradiction at it's finest and you feel a current of apprehension surge through you.

“Put a towel on one of the benches,” Hanamiya tells Yamazaki. After the redhead makes toward the aforementioned furniture Hanamiya adds, “And make sure it's a clean one.”

“Why? We're just going to get it dirty,” Yamazaki grouses under his breath, but he does as he's been told nonetheless.

You feel hands moving down your spine and shiver as Seto's knuckles brush against the small of your back. You can hear the slide of your skirt zip coming down and the fabric pools at your feet before you can protest the action. It's something you would normally do, an involuntary response, and while you're fighting with temptation, it's clear that you don't want to win.

You step out of the pleated circlet when Hara tugs you forward, clad in nothing more than your simple undergarments, polished shoes, and black knee-high socks. He walks you over to the towel-covered bench and gestures for you to sit down. Your body feels like a live wire hanging too close to water and you're all too grateful to sit down on something solid.

“Fuck, my cock is already leaking and that's just from her pheromones,” Yamazaki says, almost purring. “If your pussy smells this good, I can only imagine how it's gonna be when I fuck you.”

You shyly steal a glimpse at Yamazaki's cock, swollen and stiff in his hand as he idly strokes over himself. His opening comment is an understatement, to say the least. There's slick catching on his fingers and a strand of heavy precome trailing from the glistening head of his cock all the way down to the floor. It makes a well of saliva pool on your tongue and the need to be bred cross over the line of desire and into desperation.

Hanamiya takes up the space in front of you and his presence alone is commanding enough, but when he roughly tips your head back and forces you to look up at him, it's almost as if he's the only Alpha in the room. He dampens his lips before he speaks and when he does, his voice is dripping with lust.

“Do I need to explain what's going to happen here, or are you going to be a good girl and endure it as an obedient Omega should?” Hanamiya stares down at you and his gaze is so compelling you feel as though you've sold your soul to the devil.

You can feel your panties grow heavy with slick and stick to your skin when you press your knees together in an attempt to alleviate the uncomfortable need pulsing between your thighs. You forget about protests and consequences and discard your dignity to slip the rosary noose over your head.

“Please take care of me,” you say, voice wavering. Your eyes are trained on Hanamiya but the statement is meant for each Alpha in the room.

The corner of Hanamiya's mouth curves on a wicked grin and your skin immediately turns to gooseflesh.

“You heard her, boys,” Hanamiya rasps, dropping his hand to loosen the towel hugging his narrow hips.

The blur of motion is hard to follow as each Alpha closes in on you, casting you in an amorphous shadow. The scent of arousal tips your focus sideways and it takes every grain of your self-control to keep from begging them to take you apart.

You can hear the wet slide of arousal against skin as they begin to stroke themselves, readying their already hard lengths for your attention. The boy standing directly behind you slides his hand down your neck, then up to your cheek, applying just enough pressure to demand your direct focus. You turn your head as much as your neck will allow and see that it's Hara. He ducks his head and presses a chaste kiss on your lips, dipping his tongue into your mouth for only a second before drawing away.

You immediately take the head of the nearest cock into your mouth, which just so happens to belong to Hanamiya. You can taste salt on your lips as you flick your tongue over his leaking slit and where you expect bitterness, you're surprised to find something akin to sweetness. You relax your jaw and take him deep into your mouth, while the Alpha opposite him grabs your hand and curls your fingers around their thick girth in unspoken demand.

When you draw back, a combination of saliva and slick drips down your chin. You can feel fingers working the clasps of your bra free and you mindlessly shrug the fabric down your arms when it begins to fall. Seto tugs the material free and tosses it aside, and you're surprised to find that he's the one filling your hand.

You continue to stroke Seto and turn to Furuhashi who is just behind your shoulder and bow your head to take his cock into your mouth next. You reach behind you blindly with your free hand and Yamazaki guides you to the firm heat of his member. You alternate between weeping erections, your hands and head moving in equal turns as you try to appropriate impartial attention to each boy.

Hanamiya likes to cant his hips when he fucks your throat, whereas, Seto likes to bury his hands in your hair and guide you down the length of his cock. Yamazaki's thrusts are erratic, opposite to Furuhashi's timed movements, and Hara falls somewhere in the middle. You have no preference, and it wouldn't matter if you did because you're so caught in the heat of their sexual desires that you can't parse where your lust ends and where your love begins.

Your lips are tight around Furuhashi's cock, and one hand is cupping Yamazaki's balls while the opposite is stroking over Hanamiya's cock as consistently as you can manage with your attention torn in so many directions. Seto hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties and you're quick to lift your hips to aid in his objective. Once removed, the air feels cool against the slick coating your skin and you're overwhelmed with selfish desire.

Hanamiya briefly runs his hand over your sex, his fingers teasing your clit before Seto widens your stance to reveal your cunt to the room. You keep your legs wide apart and even lift your hips to meet Seto's mouth as he bends over to lap at your arousal. You trade Furuhashi's cock for Hara's, your head bent back at an uncomfortable angle. Hara gently fucks your throat and you're happy to let him do most of the work because Seto is sucking on your clit and it's taking every grain of your control to keep up your ministrations.

You continue the game of chasing cock like you're running a race, your heart hammering in your chest and sweat breaking across your skin like summer dew. Your legs quiver and you feel like you can't breathe, even without the breadth of cock filling your mouth. Seto is a master with his mouth and you don't know how much longer you're going to last at the mercy of his tongue. To make things more difficult, Hara reaches forward and begins to tug at your nipples in turn. He brushes his thumbs over your turgid peaks and rolls them between his fingers, and it's enough to heighten every sense in your body.

It's obvious that Hanamiya delights in your struggle because as soon as your mouth is free, he shoves his cock past your lips and fucks your throat raw. Saliva spills past the corners of your mouth and drips down to your chest. Hara drags his fingertips through the slick mess and smears it over your hard nubs, fusing yet another sensation to the fire running rampant in your veins.

You hear a soft coo against the backdrop of the room and when Seto draws back from your wet heat, you're surprised to find that it's you who's making the sound. You whimper at the loss of stimulation but you don't have time to focus on the disappointment—as if their minds are connected, they're moving together and a hand on your shoulder guides you down against the bench.

You're not surprised to find Hanamiya taking the lead when he settles in front of you. You drape your legs over opposite sides of the unyielding seat and the lead Alpha wastes no time sliding his cock into your aching sex. He braces his hands on your hips and slams himself home with each measured thrust as if he wants to break you and give you pleasure in equal parts.

Hara takes up the position next to you and when you open your mouth up to him, he slides into your aperture like he's making love to your tongue. Furuhashi moves to stand beside Hara as he slides himself down to the limits of your throat. You shift your gaze in an attempt to make eye contact with Hara but find him already preoccupied. Furuhashi's hand is buried in his layered strands and he's pulling him closer as their tongues move together in some kind of shiftless dance.

Seto guides your hand to his cock and you begin stroking him, fingers catching resistance on the layer of viscous fluid that sticks to his skin. Yamazaki moves behind you and when he comes into view, he drops to his knees to take the fullness of your breasts into his hands. Hanamiya mutters something you can't quite make out and he's fucking you with such vigor you don't know how he has the stamina to outpace impending exhaustion.

Your limbs feel inflamed and you feel like you're drowning in magma, skin cut by raw edges of basalt and sand. You feel like you're coming undone so you shake your head and Hara slides himself free of your mouth. You gasp yourself into breathing and feel beads of moisture slip past the corners of your eyes.

“I can't,” you manage, breathless and shaky. “It's too much.”

Hanamiya scoffs at your weakness and digs eventual bruises into your hips. “You're going to have to do better than that,” he tells you, his breath unbelievably even.

“Open your mouth,” Furuhashi tells you, his hand on your cheek.

Yamazaki palms your breasts eagerly and when he closes the damp edges of his teeth on the sensitive tissue, the pained-pleasure is enough to recenter your focus. You inhale a deep breath and part your lips. Furuhashi leans forward and spits into your mouth, the action animal and crude but arousing all the same. Hara pushes himself back into your mouth and the slide is easier given Furuhashi's supplemental saliva.

“Fuck,” Hanamiya bites, the word sharp on his tongue.

“Don't you dare,” Yamazaki warns, his hands stilling on your swaying breasts.

“Too late,” Hanamiya husks, hips jerking as he releases a copious amount of come inside of you. You can feel the base of his cock increase in size and the spill of fluid leaking from your sex cease.

“You asshole,” Seto says, though there's more humor in his voice than anger.

“You just had to go and get stuck so the rest of us couldn't have a turn, didn't you?” Yamazaki adopts, shaking his head.

“You'll have your turn,” Hanamiya says, clearly unfazed. He runs a hand through the inky spill of his hair and bends forward to drape himself over the soft give of your body. “Thanks for that,” he says, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear.

“You're a condescending prick to boot,” Seto tells Hanamiya as he closes his hand over your fingers to offer direct guidance.

“But I'm seldom a liar,” Hanamiya points out, righting his body just enough to fit himself closer to the gap in your thighs.

Seto rolls his eyes and ignores Hanamiya for the rest of the time it takes for his knot to deflate. You continue to indulge the boys alternately as the minutes count down and when Hanamiya is able to free himself from your slick heat, Hara takes his place.

At Hara's request, you turn yourself over and straddle the bench. You keep your hands planted firmly on the hard surface and raise your hips. You feel more exposed like this somehow, though there's less to be seen. You feel Hara's hands slip down your spine and it's as if you're a doll and he's pulling out all your threads. You close your eyes and whine, hips moving with involuntary need.

“Look at you,” Seto says, stepping forward to line his cock up to your mouth. “You're already thirsty for it even though you've just been pumped full of Makoto's come.” He slides himself into your aperture and rests a hand atop your head, his fingernails dragging lightly against your scalp. “You're a hungry little pup, aren't you?”

Hara drags the head of his cock over your entrance and you can't help but thrust back against his teasing touch. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter and try to concentrate on the bittersweet taste of Seto's arousal on your tongue. Hara moans and with a single, punctuated thrust, he buries himself inside of you.

You mewl and the sound of it vibrates against Seto's cock, making him form a fist against the top of your head. He tugs at your hair and you let your mouth go slack in offering.

“Damn, you're not kidding,” Hara begins, gradually increasing his rhythm. “She's brimming.”

You hear the shower start in the open room around the corner, and even though you can't see his expression, you're sure that Hanamiya is smirking.

Hara continues to fuck you and Seto changes position with Yamazaki, who delights in making you chase his cock hands-free. With one knee pressed into the bench and his hands behind his back, Furuhashi wraps a hand around your throat and holds you upright as the redhead fucks into your mouth.

And it goes like that for longer than you could even register if you tried. The switch of bodies, the filling up of your hollow points, the changing of positions—there's so much salt and heat and come on your lips and tongue that you can no longer parse their tastes or aromas from one another. Your body aches and you can't recall how many times you've climaxed because each orgasm blurs into the next. Your limbs are listless and your muscles feel worn. You're dizzy and fatigued and the lights shining behind your eyes are almost blinding.

Seto is the last to fuck you and you're honestly amazed by his level of his patience. He has you stand up and despite your curvy frame, he picks you up easily, leaving you to wrap your arms around his neck as he lowers you down onto his cock. He fucks you with fluid precision and though it's inessential, Hara moves to stand behind you, his hands cupping your ass for added security—or perhaps it's merely consolatory.

You catch Yamazaki in your periphery and he's stroking his cock despite the wealth of come he left in you. You issue a plaintive cry and move your hands to Seto's cheeks, your fingertips brushing the base of his neck. You drop your head back against Hara's shoulder and with each undulation of Seto's hips, you release a high-pitched whine.

Furuhashi steps up onto the bench and you shift your head to Hara's opposite shoulder. You open your mouth and Furuhashi presses his thumb against your tongue. He strokes his cock several times, then spills what's left of his seed onto your tongue and bottom teeth.

It's not long before Seto joins the other Alphas and capitulates inside of you. He holds you tightly as you feel his cock grow inside of you, and he's surprisingly careful when he lowers you down onto the bench with him. You wrap your legs around his waist and stroke your fingers down the sweat-damp length of his spine as you wait for his knot to decrease in size.

The boys filter in and out of the room to freshen up and you say a silent prayer that they'll let you do the same when you're finally free to move on your own. You can't bear the thought of returning to the world outside this room given your image, clothing or not, you're currently in an irreparable state.

You're already reaching the warm onrushing of slumber by the time Seto shifts to slide himself free of your thrumming sex. You feel feverish, and the only positive to the delirium of unbridled passion and the sweat sticking to your skin is that it disguises your flushed cheeks. Your skin is stiff in places where their come has dried and wet in other places where the viscous emission has dripped down from your overworked cunt. It's a strange union of the past and present but all you care about is getting clean, even if it means crawling to the showers on your hands and knees.

You press yourself up against the cold metal of a locker and let it cool the flames skipping over your skin. You listen to the rustle of clothing and the idle chatter that spreads casually between them while thinking that you've let them mark you in every way possible. However, when Hanamiya reenters the room with a gleam in his eye, you begin to think otherwise.

The space around you dissolves into silence and something moves through you like a sinking stone. Hanamiya closes the distance between your bodies, and without a single word, he spins you around to sink the sharp points of his teeth into the base of your neck.

You cry out as pain lances through you, paralyzing your senses and overriding your ability to feel anything other than the mark he's binding you with. You press your palms against the line of lockers and pant as he drags the flat of his tongue over the bleeding imprint to soothe the ache.

“What the hell, Makoto?” Furuhashi says, shock and exasperation a vivid melody on his lips.

Hanamiya steps away from you and wipes the blood and saliva away from his mouth with the back of his hand. He smiles and his pupils have taken over so much of his gilded gaze that there's hardly any color left to be seen.

“Jealous?” Hanamiya needles, his tone dragging over his lips with the roughness of an unpolished stone. “Envy is a throw-away feeling, so I suggest you do just that because I want you to mark her too.”

“Why?” Yamazaki drawls behind a yawn so wide you can see all the way back to his molars.

“He wants her to be our personal toy, ourvery own Omega to use when we need her,” Hara supplies with all the confidence of a tiger.

Hanamiya nods his head in agreement and roves his eyes over each Alpha in turn. “Do any of you oppose?” He asks the question as if he wouldn't believe their rejection if they offered it, which none of them do. What's more, is that you don't even consider speaking out against the idea.

Furuhashi is the first to approach you. You fear the pain of the bite but there's something equally stimulating about being marked by this group of Alphas. You question if it has more to do with what's just taken place rather than the prospect, but thinking of a future like this doesn't seem so bad. Although, your body might contest the idea if it had a say in the matter.

Furuhashi chooses your wrist and Yamazaki follows suit. Both bites are painful, and you can't help but cry out as each injury makes its mark, but for all the physical suffering, there's more to be said about the slick leaking from your body. Seto is next, and he chooses your left shoulder while Hara claims your right. They bite you in tandem and the pain is enough to compromise your consciousness for a split second. The room fades to black and Hara's arm is the only thing that keeps you standing as you begin to fall.

“Well, now that that's all done, I think it's only fair that we clean her up considering the mess we've made,” Yamazaki says, stroking his fingers over the mark he made on your wrist.

“I don't think it's a matter of fairness,” Hara says, chuckling. “I don't think she could manage it in this state if she tried.”

“I'm right here, you know,” you say, turning your shoulder against the lockers to face them openly. “I'm also getting a bit chilly,” you fib, wishing for something more than skin to wear in front of them now that you're finished with the more salacious details of your impromptu exchange.

Hanamiya looks like he doesn't believe you but he jerks his chin in the direction of the showers anyway. “Get yourself cleaned up, ____. I have to go meet with the principal so I expect you boys to take care of her while I'm gone. Seto, I'm leaving you in charge.”

Seto nods his head in the affirmative and the gesture seems to appease Hanamiya because he heads toward the exit without another word. You listen for the door to close with bated breath, though you're not sure why. The solid weight clicks behind him and when you finally exhale, all of the boys are staring at you.

You part your lips to issue the simple question that slips into the forefront of your mind but you're suddenly suffused with an onslaught of transcendental notions. You can't make sense of what you're feeling but you think it has to do with the mental outfit of the Alphas standing around you. A storm of sundry emotions surges through you like the ocean beats itself against jagged rocks. It steals your breath and boggles your mind, and you hope that this gets easier in time because it won't be so readily washed away.

“Come on, Cherry,” Seto says, smiling around the epithet. “Let's get you emptied out. Fuck knows when you'll get filled up again. My guess is that it won't be long.”

You follow closely behind Seto, flanked on both sides by Hara and Yamazaki. You wonder if this is fate, if it was predetermined in the constellations of your destiny. Not that it matters much ultimately, even stars fall and burn out, changing the divine decree.

Moreover, everyone says to chase your dreams but no one ever said you couldn't pursue your nightmares. Maybe there's something to be said about the sinister side of fantasy, and if anyone is qualified to find out, it's you.

And you can't think of any reason to spurn the challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
